Riptide
by RafeDurk
Summary: Lizzy goes for a swim at the beach. A short story written for Summer Swim at AHA.


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Riptide

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Elizabeth ran down the slope of the beach into the surf. She loved swimming in all its forms, but this was her favorite. Oh, she could swim laps well enough during the colder months, but the tameness of a pool could never stir her emotions like the turbulence of the sea. She jumped a few waves and dove under the crest of a few more taking in the ocean's mood as she made her way to where the water was just above her waist. She would go no deeper until after 10AM when the lifeguards would come on duty. She wouldn't have even gone this far if Jane hadn't been on the beach keeping an eye out for her. Strong swimmer she may be, but she was not stupid enough to think that the ocean didn't claim stronger swimmers than herself on a regular basis.

There was something particularly special about the beach when nobody else was around. If you ignored the buildings lining the shore, you could almost be convinced you were in a different world. A flock of seagulls cried noisily as they fought over some prize tidbit, a few sandpipers darted back and forth at the edge of the surf, and Jane sat reading a book and looking up every few moments to check on her sister. The nearest people were a young man ambling slowly in their direction and a surfer bobbing on the swells a quarter mile away waiting for the perfect wave.

After twenty minutes in the water, Elizabeth turned to go back to her book and was brought up short by the sight of someone in her chair talking animatedly to Jane. That wasn't the surprising bit—men often stopped to talk to Jane. No, what was astonishing was that, unless she was very much mistaken, that unruly hair and ridiculously huge smile belonged to none other than Charles Bingley, whom they hadn't seen in months. A glance up and down the beach revealed no sign of his sisters, and Elizabeth smiled to think that without their interference, the couple would actually have a chance to mend their broken relationship. She would have liked to see William Darcy and maybe attempt an apology for her part in the fight they'd had the last time they spoke, but sadly there was no sign of him either. _Oh well, you can't have everything._

Charles's arrival had distracted her momentarily, and without paying attention she took a step forward just as a wave crashed into her back. Had she been expecting it, she likely would not have had a major problem, but since she had not braced for the impact, the wave knocked her down against the sea floor disorienting her just long enough for the undertow come into play. She fought her way to the surface sputtering and coughing only to realize that she had been carried far enough out that she could no longer touch bottom. Once she caught her breath, she shook her head at her own foolishness and began to swim towards the shore.

Five minutes later, Elizabeth finally admitted to herself that she was making no forward progress and gave in to truth she had been attempting to deny: she was caught in a rip current.

Since before she could remember, Elizabeth had spent summers at the beach, visiting her grandparents. This meant that, although she had never personally experienced a rip current, she knew what she was supposed to do. _Do not swim against the current—that is just a waste of energy_—she remembered. _Instead, you should swim parallel to shore until you escape the current and then swim back.*_ Only this did not seem to work well either. _This current must be particularly strong,_ she thought, because no matter how hard she swam, she still failed to make any progress.

_What was the second option again? Oh, right, tread water and wait for the current to peter out._ That sounded like a spectacularly bad idea given that her sister was currently _very_ distracted and there were no lifeguards, but she had no better plan. So she floated and waited until she was beyond the breakers and thought she was no longer getting any further from shore. Not that it was easy to tell, as she had to be at least half a mile out. She had swam that distance before with little trouble, but that was when she was in a pool, not after fighting a powerful current for some minutes and treading water for longer. And the water in the pool had been warm, she remembered, as she began to shiver.

How long had she been in the water? It had to be nearly an hour by now. She was cold and tired from her attempts to escape the current, and now she was about to traverse the breakers into shore. Not good. But there wasn't anything else for it, so she struck out parallel to the shore and, once she judged herself far enough away from the dangerous current, headed back toward land.

Had Jane noticed her predicament yet? Had anyone? She pondered this for a bit, then chastised herself when her thoughts became somewhat morbid. She had no time for that. She had to keep moving before she got even colder.

She hit the breakers and it was every bit as terrible as she had imagined. The first one knocked her under, and she surfaced only to be hit by another following its mate closely. From then on, she tried to duck under the approaching waves, but her exhaustion played havoc with her timing, and her lungs burned from the insult of the salt water she had inhaled.

After being buffeted by yet another wave, her arm was caught in a tight grip and she felt herself being pulled to the surface. Thanks to her single-minded determination to get back to shore, she had not realized that the surfer she had noticed earlier was nearby.

"Hold on," he commanded, shifting his grip on her arm and pulling her up so she could rest her weight on his board. "You okay?"

She was too busy coughing to answer verbally, but she did try to nod. Now she just had to decide if her current situation was utterly mortifying or completely hilarious (that what had happened just before was terrifying was a given and needed no decision). Never in a million years had she expected to be rescued by William Darcy on a surfboard. Actually, she would never have expected to even _see_ William Darcy on a surfboard. The man was just full of surprises.

Finally, she caught her breath enough to say, "Thanks, William," but her voice was hoarse and unrecognizable.

"Do I know . . . ?" he began to ask before she looked up at him for the first time and recognition dawned. He might have stared at her in open-mouthed shock for a while, but the sea does not respect tender moments any more than it respects anything else; a wave hit them just hard enough to unbalance William knocking him sideways off the surfboard. Without a word, he climbed back on, assisted Elizabeth into a more secure position, and struck out for shore. Two minutes later Elizabeth was back on dry land, resisting the urge to kiss the ground only because she did not feel like picking sand out of her teeth.

They had not spoken again as he directed them to the shore, but William had also not allowed them to break contact. He now knelt next to her as she crouched on the sand and placed his hand soothingly on the back of her neck, rubbing gently. "What happened?"

"Rip current. Didn't realize at first and tried to fight. Then I tried to swim out, and that didn't work either. It dumped me a good half-mile off shore. What time is it?"

"Nine thirty. Why? How long were you in the water for?" his hand was now making small circles on her back.

"Since a bit after eight." She was shaking now, and didn't know if it was more from cold or exhaustion. She was also too tired to wonder at his gentle attentiveness. He couldn't still love her after the argument they had had, could he? No tender feelings could have survived that fight.

"Damn," he said almost under his breath. Then louder he said, "Come on, we need to get you warm." He helped her to her feet, stooping slightly so he could place her arm over his shoulder and supporting her weight by placing his arm around her waist.

She was soon wrapped in an oversized beach towel with a bottle of water in one hand and a sandwich in the other. He insisted she eat, overriding her claims to not be hungry.

"Were you swimming alone? That's not safe."

_Ah_, she thought, _there's the arrogant Darcy I remember._ Pointedly, she looked around at the empty beach, drawing his attention to his own lack of a companion. "No, it isn't." She was pleased to see him color slightly.

"Bingley was supposed to . . ."

She cut him off, "Yeah, well it looks like your substitute lifeguard distracted mine. I saw him and Jane talking together right before the undertow got me."

Elizabeth thought William looked angry at this and she felt her own ire growing. "If you didn't believe me when I told you at Hunsford, you won't believe me now, but Jane _does_ love him." As she spoke, she extricated herself from the towel and made to stand.

William stood quickly and grabbed her elbow both stopping her from attempting to leave and keeping her upright when her tired legs refused to hold her weight. He lowered her slowly back to the ground.

"I believe you—I always did. And I'd be thrilled for them if their reunion hadn't resulted in you nearly drowning!"

She didn't know why she was still angry—his concern for her should have been mollifying. Maybe it was the stress of the last hour, but she snapped at him, "Not everyone is as imperturbable as you are! Any normal person would be justifiably distracted by running into someone they loved but believe does not love them in return, a situation that describes both Jane and Charles." _And myself_ she suddenly realized.

"You imply that I am not normal in that respect. But if I was as imperturbable as you seem to think, the realization of just who I had pulled out of the water would not have led to me being knocked off my surfboard. And I certainly wouldn't do this."

Before Elizabeth could work out his intentions, he was kissing her. She stiffened and he responded by immediately backing away and stammering an apology, having mistaken her surprise for a refusal. But she would not let him retreat, and before he could put any more distance between them she grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself up to return the kiss. With interest.

By the time a frantic Bingley and Jane came looking for Darcy's assistance in contacting the Coast Guard on Elizabeth's behalf, she was no longer the least bit cold.

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*There is some evidence that this might not actually be the best advice. When looking up rip currents (in an attempt to not make this too outrageous) I saw one researcher who claimed that it was actually best to just tread water because swimming out of the current may place you in a different, stronger current. But, don't take my word for it, just be smarter than Elizabeth was and only swim when lifeguards are present.

Who shall we scold first? Elizabeth and Darcy for playing in the ocean without a lifeguard, or Bingley and Jane for neglecting their duties as surrogate lifeguards for so long. Leave a review and let me know


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